


Tony Stark Vs. The Sleepover

by feetheimpossiblegrl



Series: Tony Stark VS [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dad!Tony, Fun times with the pops I guess, Have I told you how much I love Tony being a gentle father, M/M, Staten Island Children's Museum, Sundae Sunday, Tony is Peter's Dad, art teacher! Steve, just some domestic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 04:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16779817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feetheimpossiblegrl/pseuds/feetheimpossiblegrl
Summary: Sundae Sunday!Peter, Ned and MJ have a long sleepover in preparation for Sundae Sunday! Tony learns that kids are energizer bunnies when put together and Steve learns that Tony can sing kinda well.





	Tony Stark Vs. The Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I hope you had a fantastic Thanksgiving and ate your fill of good food!   
> This has been sitting around for a minute, I hope you like it!  
> All revisions are mine, as my normal beta's are busy. So this means any mistakes (as always) are my fault. 
> 
> Two disclaimers:  
> 1\. This is a series of one shots so it's not totally comprehensive in everything that's happening. I try my hardest but some details on some sides are missed.   
> 2\. Young children can have co-ed sleepovers bc I did when I was 6/7, fight me. If the fact that MJ is staying over sincerely bothers you know I apologize for that. 
> 
> Lastly, if you notice any glaring, disgusting errors find me on Tumblr to let me know, thank you all. ❤️

It’s nearly midnight on Friday when Steve gets Tony’s call. He’s curled up in bed, wrapped in a comforter and a quilt, trying to keep the cold that seems to have stuck around since his last mission, almost two years ago, at bay. Ella Fitzgerald’s voice startles him, earning a deep graphite mark down the center of the sketch he’s working on. He’s trying to catch the light in Tony’s eyes as he looked at Peter during the Halloween party. The sketch now looks more like Tony is giving Peter fond laser eyes.

_Can anyone explain, the thrill of a kiss?_

Steve blushes, as he recalls picking the song on the elevator ride down to his bike after his first kiss with Tony. Tony who hasn’t bothered to return Steve’s calls or answer any of his texts since they kissed two days ago.

Tony who is calling him right now.

_But when two eager lips, are pressed against yours, you’ll know. Yes, you’ll know._

“Hello.” Steve finally accepts the call, the word high and airy as he lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding.

“Stevie-kins,” Tony whines. Steve can almost picture him in the lab, hunched over a computer running through lines of code, until he hears the kids in the background. “Steve, I know I should have returned your calls, or at least texted you back, and I’m very sorry for how I avoided you. I promise I’ll take you to dinner so we can discuss how terrible I am. But right now, I need your help.”

Steve’s stomach drops a little as he nearly vaults out of bed.

“Is Pe—“

“Yes honeybunches, is it still okay if I call you honeybunches? I’m so bad at everything, well, not engineering and science. I’m bad at people. I suck at everything involving people. Anyway, yes, Peter is great, Ned is great, MJ is great. They’re all great. That’s the problem. They’re all great at midnight on a Friday and I’m fucking exhausted.”

Steve can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. Tony is so unpredictable, and Steve thinks he might be getting addicted to it.

“Well, kids have a lot of energy Tony.”

“I’m 27 Steve, not 53. I should be able to keep up with these kids. How do you do it, oh wise one?”

“Well…” Steve drawls into his phone, settling back into the warm comfort of his blankets, now that he knows Tony doesn’t need him for an emergency.

“Uh, huh,” Tony mutters his voice sounds muffled, like maybe he isn’t holding the phone to his face. “I’m following.” Then, he adds, more muffled than before, and definitely not to Steve. “You all need to go to sleep. How are you even going still? We have done so much. A snack? Yeah, how does peanut butter and celery sound? No, Ned, we aren’t going to build an ice cream machine right now. Yes, MJ, the celery is responsibly sourced. No, Pete, we cannot stay up all night.”

A moment of silence passes, when Steve thinks he might have some small iota of Tony’s attention again he speaks. “To start with. I get more than three to four hours of sleep a night.”

“And you lost me already sugar britches. You lost me already. Should I give them raisins too? Or just the peanut butter and celery?”

“Tony?” Steve keeps his voice deadly serious, not letting his inner emotions show.

“Yeah, Steve?” Tony’s reply is breathless, still distracted. Steve imagines him flying around his kitchen and chasing down children.

“Nothing has ever sounded as fucking disgusting as peanut butter and celery with raisins. Don’t come to me with that shit.” Steve tries not to think too hard about the delighted tingle that runs through his body as Tony lets out a surprised laugh.

“Right, Rogers. I’ll make sure to never bring celery, peanut butter and raisins into the proximity of your greatness again, Your Highness.”

“I’m going to hold you to that Sir Stark,” Steve replies teasing, he bites down on the words that are clawing at his throat. _Why haven’t you called me? What changed? Did I do something wrong? What if I’m falling in love with you?_

“Really Steve,” Tony sighs, in the background Steve hears the contented mutterings of children who have been given an offering. “Any advice on how to get these kiddos into bed? Usually Pete is asleep by 11 on a Friday. It’s 12:30.”

“Do something physical.” Steve adjusts, rolling onto his side, snuggling back into his comforter. Trying to find the sense of warmth that so rarely blessed him after he discharged from the service. “Like a pillow fight. Maybe a scavenger… no, kids shouldn’t be running around your tower unsupervised.”

“JARVIS is here!” Tony is indignant in his response, Steve ignores him and continues.

“Buck and I used to play ‘the floor is lava’. I think that might be a good one. Set up strategically placed ‘safe areas’ where the kids can jump too.”

“I like that idea. It sounds fun. Jay, can you throw down some jullabaloo for us to jump to and from? Also, add in some cool countdowns. Maybe make the floor warm? Not hot enough to burn but when the kids step off the safe areas they’ll notice a difference? Yeah, do that.”

“Sounds like you have it figured out,” Steve trails off, unsure of what to say next, where to go from here. There are so many things he wants, needs, to say. “Ton—“

“How about you join us?” Tony cuts Steve off. “I have these hooligans all weekend. For a bit in August and September Peter and I did this thing, Sundae Sunday,” Tony huffs, a disbelieving kind of laugh. “It’s why we are having the two-day long sleepover. Anyway, tomorrow we are going to the Staten Island Children’s Museum. They have a bug exhibit that Peter really loves. His mom took him a few times. I mean, it wouldn’t be a date but it would be nice to see you. I know you’re his favorite teacher. I don’t think it makes up for the fact that I’ve been…”

“Yes Tony,” Steve smiles, cutting the man off before he goes on a thirty-minute rant. “I would love to go with you, Peter and his friends. Where should I meet you?”

“I, uh, y-yeah. Welcome. Um, ah, here? How does here at the Tower sound? If you get here at 11:30 we can do lunch together first?”

“Lunch sounds good, as long as you’re cooking it.”

“Well, Rogers,” Tony laughs, and Steve tries again to ignore the warm feeling that spreads through him. “I think I can cook up something good for you and the kiddos. I do owe it to my betrothed, don’t I?”

The way Tony says betrothed, full of light and humor, fills Steve with a want for… something. He thought after conferences, after the kiss on Halloween that the joke would start to fall flat. Instead, he finds the joke still makes him laugh, still reminds him why he enjoys Tony’s friendship.

“I’m afraid it’s the only way to make up for the cold shoulder,” Steve pauses for a beat, then adds. “And the most delicious.”

Tony laughs, before letting Steve know he still has tower clearance and JARVIS will let him up.

Steve falls asleep with a silly kind of smile on his face.

* * *

Steve’s little house, two bedrooms one bathroom with a nice finished basement, sits in a quaint neighborhood in Brooklyn. Ma worked hard to get it, Steve isn’t sure he can ever part with it. He is pretty sure he couldn’t find a better house in the area, anyway. $350,000 for a townhouse isn’t something he can afford on a teacher’s salary, he’s not interested in the slightest. The distance to Stark Tower is notable though, nearly 13 miles. So, instead of including the trek in his morning run, Steve opts for a taxi, pocket already hurting at the cost. Just as Steve grabs his phone to call a knock at the door startles him.

He answers the door to see a slightly shorter man wearing a black suit hopping from foot to foot on his porch. Vaguely Steve recognizes him from somewhere, though he cannot place that recognition.

“Mr. Rogers? Mr. Stark sent me to pick you up. I’m his driver, Happy.”

_Oh._ That’s where Steve recognizes the man from. Numerous news articles that show Happy, often in the passenger seat, sometimes warding off crazed fans, rarely ever driving.

“He sent a driver?” Steve can’t help the smile of disbelief that crosses his face as he shakes his head. He should have known Tony wouldn’t let him get to the tower any other way.

“Yes, sir. Mr. Stark didn’t want you having to worry about transportation you see? So, he sent me.” Happy stands proudly, hands clasped together in front of him. “He made sure I got here early so we can leave whenever you would like. Drive to the tower takes anywhere from thirty to forty-five minutes. To get there close to eleven thirty, we should leave by ten-thirty at the latest.”

Steve looks to the clock, it’s nearing ten, but he’s ready now.

“Let me grab my coat, Happy.” Steve smiles moving to grab a jacket and his phone. “I’m ready now.”

“A man who is ready early?” Happy laughs. “Mr. Stark could learn a thing or two from you.”

* * *

Steve isn’t sure he will ever get used to how quickly JARVIS ushers him into the elevator and up the fifty something floors. There’s a strange swoop in his stomach that he knows he can’t blame on his ascent. He feels the wings of a thousand butterflies swirling in his stomach. He’s so excited to see his students in this setting. Less professional, more fun.

But if he is being honest with himself, and Steve is working on that, his excitement is at the prospect of seeing Tony.

“Mr. Rogers,” JARVIS starts, the A.I.s voice is low, almost like a conspiratorial whisper. “I feel I should warn you. The scene out there resembles a chaotic form of anarchy.”

Steve laughs, a soft sound that echoes in the confines of the elevator. “Thanks for the warning JARVIS. I’ll be ready.”

With a slight jerk the elevator comes to a stop on Tony and Peter’s floor. Before the doors open Steve can hear the yelling of excited children, the slightly off beat clapping of little hands. The voices of Ned and MJ soar through the air, excitedly talking over each other, between singing the lines they know. He smiles to himself, the noise reminds him of his classroom.

The noise only increases when Steve steps off the elevator. He finds himself in the living room, music and voices drift in from another room. The smell of cooking food mixes in giving Steve a warm feeling of _home_. He follows the smells and voices, follows the strange feeling of home.

Peter’s Halloween party took place in the huge living room of their floor so Steve hasn’t been able to see the kitchen. Stepping into it now is like stepping into another world. _Holy shit,_ is all Steve can think as he takes in the large room. To his left there are three walls almost completely counter space, there is room for Tony’s many appliances plus some. A small break in the counter space on one of the walls houses the refrigerator, and the oven. To his right the room opens into a spacious breakfast nook. In the center of the room sits a large island, a glass top electric stove on one side, a sink in the middle, with additional counter space on the other side. Ned, MJ, and Peter are sitting on the counter side of the island while Tony cooks on the stove top.

The kids are dressed for the day but it looks like Tony might still be in his pajamas, clad in a pair of yoga pants and a soft blue t-shirt. Something about the outfit, slots Tony’s size into Steve’s brain. He’s only a few inches shorter, but he’s built entirely from lean muscle, making him seem much shorter than the 5’10” he actually is.

Tony’s dancing while he cooks, singing to the kids as his bare feet carry him through a silly tango, he twirls around the island to where MJ sits. As the song ends he swoops her up and spins her in a dramatic circle before dipping the giggling girl.

The next song starts, a beautiful orchestral sound filling the kitchen as Tony plops MJ back on the counter. Before boogying over to his son. As the beat slowly starts to pick up Ned begins banging on a set of pretend drums, Peter starts air guitaring as Tony sings the first words of the song into the ladle he’s been holding. Watching Tony like this, care-free and smiling, makes Steve’s heart full.

As the first verse comes to an end Tony finally catches sight of Steve. A look of surprise crosses his face for a moment before Tony is pulling Steve fully into the kitchen and leading him into a dance.

“ _I don’t wanna close my eyes, I don’t wanna fall asleep ‘cause I’ll miss you babe,”_ Tony sings to Steve, ladle abandoned on the island as they dance around the kitchen.

_“And I don’t wanna miss a thing!”_ MJ and Ned croon, falling into giggles as Tony sticks his tongue out at them.

“ _Mr. Steve and Tony sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G_ —“ Ned sings, causing MJ to roll her eyes.

_They’re just dancing, Ned._ Peter signs, rolling his eyes as well, laughing at his excited friend.

“Oh,” Ned appears introspective for a moment. “I guess you’re right!”

“You’re here early, honeybunches.” Tony mutters conspiratorially to Steve. Turning the music down with a gesture of his hand. “You that excited to see me?”

“More like I couldn’t stop thinking about what you might be cookin’.” Steve smiles, biting back a laugh at Tony’s indignant huff.

“Lamb stew over wild rice. Since you’re nearly an hour early you’re going to have to wait though. Need a snack? Coffee?”

“A little snack might be nice.”

“Fridge, right side. Third pull out drawer. It has all of the snacks Peter and I premade. They’re pretty well rounded out. Just grab whatever looks interesting to you.”

Steve opens the fridge and pulls open the drawer Tony instructed him to look in. The first thing he sees is a small container holding… peanut butter and celery. The snack reminds him of childhood. Weekend sleep overs with Bucky. Humming Steve pulls the Tupperware container out of the fridge only to see the raisins. Tony’s chuckles turn into full laughs as the children around him start snickering as well.

“I told them you don’t like raisins on your peanut butter and celery, they decided to prank you,” Tony laughs. He’s beautiful.

“Ants on a log, Mr. Rogers,” MJ giggles. “You gotta get with the times.”

_I agree with you, Mr. Rogers. I like to keep them separate._ Peter signs, a sympatric smile taking over his giggles.

“Hey Pete, Ned, MJ, why don’t you all go clean up Peter’s bedroom? After that, have Jay play two episodes of whatever kid appropriate show you want to watch, then lunch should be ready.”

Steve watches as the kids hop off the counter and follow Peter out of the room. Suddenly, with just the two of them the air grows tense, awkward.

“So, uh—looks like you got them to bed?” Steve mentally kicks his own ass because there are a million words sitting on the tip of his tongue and those are the ones he chooses.

“Yeah,” Tony laughs and Steve wonders for a moment if he’s ever heard anything as beautiful as Tony’s soft, breathy laugh. “You were right. We played the lava game for twenty minutes before they basically fell like flies. The best idea. Thank you again, I think I was about ready to tear my hair out.”

“It’s nothing, Tony, I’m just glad it helped. These kids…”

“Are like energizer bunnies and literally never stop fucking going? Normally Peter goes down easily. He has a routine you know? But when you mix him with his friends…” Tony trails off, adding some spices then tasting the contents of the huge pot in front of him. Tony moans softly in satisfaction, eyes closed as his head tilts back slightly, tongue darting out to catch broth as it tries to dribble down his chin.

“They feed off each other.” Steve supplies, trying to ignore the soft moan, the way Tony’s tongue slides over his pink lips. “When together kids create an endless loop of energy. Work on that and you may no longer need arc reactor tech.”

“Yeah,” Tony whispers, voice soft and reverential as he traces the shape of the reactor in his chest.

Steve remembers reading about it. Tony Stark missing, months pass. His mentor and father figure Obadiah Stane supporting extensive searches for the man. Only for Tony to appear three months later, rising like a Phoenix from the ashes. Literally, the terrorist group holding him wanted weapons. After torture Stark does build a weapon, but not the weapon they’re seeking. He builds a suit of iron that he uses in his escape. Tony blows up their illegally obtained StarkIndustries weapons, making a fiery escape.

It’s what happens after that sticks with Steve, that makes him wonder how he can have this version of Tony in front of him.

Within six months after Tony returns home safe and in somewhat good condition it’s revealed that Stane is behind the orders for the terrorist group to takes Tony. He pays them handsomely in cash and weapons, to murder the man he treats as a son. He’s arrested after Tony and Pepper Potts (his right hand who practically runs the company) flush him out. It’s never been confirmed why Obadiah wants Tony dead, but the rumor is that he was the one behind a long string of Stark Industries weapons being involved with black market deals with terrorists, and Tony was close to finding out.

Tony does all of his, begins reform on his company and catches the man who wants him dead with shrapnel in his chest. The only thing that keeps the shrapnel from tearing through his heart is the miniaturized arc reactor he builds. Coincidentally he also builds that, out of scraps, in a cave in the middle of nowhere.

Barely a year later Stark Industries is no longer involved in weapons manufacturing, they’re taking over the technology market and are investing incredible support into medical research.

And Tony is a father.

He sings in the kitchen, and dances with his son’s friends.

He chaperones class trips and sends texts with cat memes.

Steve wonders how Tony can still be so good, give off so much light when it seems like very force in the world has aimed to tear the man down. The arc reactors soft blue light shows through the shirt Tony wears, a beacon of hope. The world tries so hard to suffocate the light inside of Tony, so he instead puts one in his chest, Steve muses, a small smile on his face as he looks on. A moment passes before Tony clears his throat, smiling at Steve to let the man know he had been staring.

“And what can I do for you my dearest Stars n’ Stripes?” Tony smiles, moving from the stew to the oven, checking something quickly before gesturing for Steve to sit down. “You had your snack, now would you like some coffee, sugar britches?”

Steve barely had time to nod before Tony is sliding a filled to the brim mug in front of him. He has to bite back a chuckle at the sight of the mug. A zombified caricature of Albert Einstein takes up one entire side with the other side reading Before Coffee I’m Albert frankEINSTEIN.

“Don’t laugh,” Tony warns, voice far too serious to match the sly smirk on his face. “Rhodey bought me that mug three Halloween’s ago. Don’t make fun of it, my platypus is a serious man and might just fight you over it.”

“Oh,” Steve schools his face, adopting the same serious demeanor he does when the kids are telling him some very serious gossip that occurred over lunch. “I wouldn’t dream of it Tony. This mug is a treasure.”

“You stop that Rogers, otherwise I might not feed you,” Tony quips, pouring himself a cup of coffee before settling in the little breakfast nook and motioning for Steve to come sit with him.

Slowly Steve sips his coffee, savoring the way the deep flavor mixes with the lightness of the cream, the sweet from the sugar. He breathes in deeply, slowly, letting the sweet aroma of the coffee mix with the savory, filling smell of the stew Tony is cooking. In the room over Steve can hear MJ and Ned respond to Peter’s signs speaking to supplement the signs they’ve learned for their friend. For a moment, he just takes it in. Steve lets himself live fully in the moment for the first time in so long. He lets himself experience the sounds, the smells, the tastes and sensations surrounding him. He can’t shut off his head, he still knows that there are three exits out of the kitchen ( _two doors and the window if he really needs to get the fuck out),_ he still knows exactly how long it will take him to get from the chair he’s sitting in to the elevator ( _17 seconds if he’s alone, 22 if he only has to pull Tony along, 30 if he needs to incapacitate an enemy, one minute 45 seconds if they have to go to Peter’s room_ ), he knows that the elevator ride down to the garage where he parks his bike is _exactly_ 156 seconds. He can’t turn his brain off, not since his time in the service and not since the string of missions that earned him his honorable discharge. But he can have this, the sounds, the feeling of being home, the quieting of the voice in his head always cataloguing exit routes and forming escape plans.

“I was scared you know,” Tony’s voice is quiet and when Steve opens his eyes he looks almost like he isn’t sure he should have said anything at all. But he doesn’t stop, he sips his coffee, takes a moment to compose himself and continues. “I was scared and I felt like shit. That’s why I never returned your texts, never called you back. I just…” he trails off, a distant look on his face.

Tony’s gaze is far away, drifting further and further into the distance as his finger lazily circles the rim of his cup.   
“I just didn’t know how to react. I like you, Steve. I like you a lot. But so… my life… I couldn’t reconcile the fact that I become a father. A real, actual father to Peter. Peter is amazing, he’s fantastic, he’s beautiful. He’s everything, Steve. It just felt like—like, I became a father and my first executive decision was to go develop this huge, nerve wracking crush on one of my son’s favorite teachers. Then I kiss him and it just—“ Tony cuts himself off again. A moment passes while he stares into the distance, this moment seems to stretch longer, it feels heavier. Steve isn’t sure what Tony is about to say, but he knows the man needs to get it out. For better or worse.

“It felt fucking selfish, is what it felt,” he finishes resolutely, taking a long drink of his coffee. “But Brucie came over the night after and set me straight. It’s not selfish to like you. Fuck, I mean… at Shield Magnet it’s not even harmful to your job or Peter’s education as long as we can stay professional. I just... I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. I felt I needed to get that all straight in my head before I took it to you.”

Steve doesn’t linger on Tony’s friendship with Bruce. The two scientists are the most brilliant men in whatever room they’re in. It only makes sense that they bond fiercely and quickly. He also knows that Tony’s been out to dinner and drinks with Clint at least three times since they met at conferences. Instead he says the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s not selfish to want to be happy, Tony,” Steve whispers. He has so much he wants to say, so much he feels he needs to say. But he isn’t sure what words are appropriate for the moment, or if they will even come out right. So instead he just adds, “And it will never be bad to put your sons needs first. I understand.” As soon as the words are out of Steve’s mouth the heaviness lifts, once again the kitchen feels like the fun environment he walked into.

“Thank you,” Tony whispers, voice so soft Steve barely catches the gratitude.

“Anything for you, Tony, I mean that.”

“I know.” And Tony sounds content, like he’s said what he feels he needed to say, or maybe he’s just drained of emotional talk for the day. Either way Steve senses the conversation is over, so he closes his eyes again, leans his head back, and exists. Quietly and without the expectation of too much from his brain, he just lives in the moment.

* * *

Lunch is amazing. Every bite of stew mixes perfectly with the rice pilaf Tony made. He pulls out warm, homemade bread (‘a surprise for you, Stevie-kins, the kids and I… we thought you might like it’) and it melts in Steve’s mouth.

Watching Tony dance in the kitchen, eating the meal he’s made, and seeing how the man smiles at his son does something to Steve.

He eats his food, enjoying the taste of food ma would have made for him on a cold December night when a fever hit. Steve tries not to think too hard on what the flipping in his stomach means. Or why he can’t stop thinking that this feels so much more like home than the life he’s been allowing himself to live.

* * *

Happy drives them to Staten Island. The drive isn’t long, only 45 minutes. But the kids are restless, Steve is restless. After the fifth of Peter’s large sighs, and the Ned asking, for the tenth time at least, if they were there yet Steve is feeling uncharacteristically annoyed. He wants the ride to be over, to watch the kids run circles around him and Tony for hours.

“I have an idea,” Tony mutters in response to Peter’s (sixth) heaving sigh.

_What?_ Peter signs, leaning into his father. Eyes wide and curious as Tony pulls out a StarkTab he brought. The man never leaves technology behind him.

Steve watches in awe as Tony’s fingers fly across the slim electronic device. The man worries his lip as he flips through application after application before finding what it is he’s looking for. With a nod and a whispered ‘gotcha’ he tosses the StarkTab, facedown, onto the floor of the vehicle. A blue holographic light is beaming out of the tablet, from a location just below where the camera flash usually sits.

“Let’s play a game, Underoos and co. I was thinking Clue, but with a twist. Of course, I will know whodunit first, I feel I have to give that warning. But, I am a fair man, I’ll hear out other options. Let it be known that I will beat you at those games as well, though.”

“You’re confident Mr. Stark,” MJ smiles, eyebrow quirked high as she appraises Tony. “But I bet I can beat you.”

_I’m even smarter than my dad, I can win,_ Peter signs, a confident, lazy smirk takes over his face. Steve thinks for a moment that Peter looks so much like Tony.

“I can try,” Ned adds, shrugging dejectedly. Mysteries aren’t his greatest strength, but he’s a smart kid anyway and stands a good chance of figuring out the mystery as quickly as anybody else.

“I’m no detective, but I know a thing or two about problem-solving.” Steve adjusts himself, angling so he can see the holographic board better. “Let’s get to sleuthing.”

* * *

“ _Colonel Rhodey_ , in the _wine cellar_ , with a _corkscrew_?” Tony’s lip curls in disgust, he sounds like he can’t believe the results. “Platypus would never do something so vulgar, especially not in a place so sacred.”

“We told you not to use your real-world friends Tony,” Steve chastises, trying to school the expression on his face. “We told you it would be your downfall.”

“Well… yeah, you did. But, I mean. I thought that if anything it would most likely be Pepper, in the boardroom, with a stiletto.”

“That was probably a little intense, Mr. Stark,” MJ adds, balling up the holographic evidence in front of her and throwing it back onto the board. “But, I won’t tell my mom if you don’t. Investigating Who Killed Tony Stark was… fun.”

_I had my money on accidental death in the workshop,_ Peter signs. He lets out a large sigh before adding. _Dad spends so much time in the workshop when he thinks I’m asleep. JARVIS has to let me know he’s okay!_

Tony looks stricken for a second, as if he can’t consider a situation in which his son would be concerned about his wellbeing.

“I hear ya kiddo, let me work on a program. Something to make us both feel a little better.”

“I still can’t believe I won,” Ned whispers, a look of disbelief on his face. He’s frozen with the murder reveal scene still running in front of him. Green-blue light of the holograph casts strange shadows on his face as he watches the murder again. “I won!”

“Yes, Ned,” Tony laughs. “You won.”

Steve’s about to congratulate Ned on his win when the partition is being lowered and Happy is looking at them in the rear view.

“Hey boss, we’re here.”

Tony looks to the others, eyes roving over the three kids and Steve, a devilish smile taking over his face.

“Let’s do this.”

* * *

This, Steve quickly learns, means _take the Children’s Museum completely by fucking storm_. There will be no prisoners, he thinks Tony yells that at some point in time, as they charge the building.

He’s a teacher but even he isn’t ready for the atomic levels of energy these kids showcase as they run to the doors. They’re bouncing and Peter is adding small phrases to his signing because his hands just can’t keep up with everything he wants to say. The small boy, MJ and Ned stand off to the side, their hands and lips moving a million miles an hour as they use some strange language developed just for them.

Steve absolutely, one hundred percent does not bristle with annoyance when the bored young woman working the service desk suddenly peps up upon seeing Tony. Though the younger man doesn’t notice how the woman’s demeanor changes, how she pulls her auburn hair down from the lazy bun it was in, letting it fall in waves around her face, or how she undoes two of the buttons in her polo. Steve see’s it all, he doesn’t let the annoyance curl in his stomach and make his fingers a little numb, no he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel his stomach do envious summersaults when she gives the man an obvious once over and leans across the desk, asking how she can help him, her voice thick with intentions that anybody could recognize as not pure. No, Steve is an adult and his here as Tony’s friend. No jealousy in the area.

“I need three children’s tickets and two adult tickets please, one for me, one for my date,” Tony asks of the young lady, gesturing to Steve.

Steve might allow himself to admit the phrase ‘one for my date’ sets off a few butterflies.

“Also, how can I pay for the tickets of everybody else who will be coming in today? I think, yeah,” Tony trails off, looking uncomfortable for a moment. “Can you just, bill me for these tickets now, then keep a running total for the rest of the day? I would like to pay for any other families that come through. Here’s my card. My email and my PA, Pepper’s emails are there, you can send either of us the invoice for the rest of the day.”

“I’ll have to ask my manager…” The woman trails off, pout on her face clear as day as she grabs the phone and places a call.

_Not today, ma’am._ Steve finds himself thinking vindictively.

The manager is more than glad to work with Tony. Promising to give anybody else who comes through free admittance and to not alert the press about Tony’s generosity.

With that, they’re off. Charging the building once again. Steve laughs, _this is going to be quite the day,_ he thinks to himself, and follows the group in.

* * *

The energy continues throughout the building, from room to room, floor to floor. The kids are practically bouncing off the walls as they interact with the exhibits, asking questions and manipulating the parts they can. They work their way through exhibits that feature blocks for building. Here Steve watches as Tony takes the time to explain to Ned why his first attempt didn’t work, how they can improve the design and then try again. Ned smiles the whole time, soaking up the information as well as Tony’s attention.

Two rooms later, on a real stage with beautiful props and costumes, MJ delivers a moving speech. She poetically speaks on the plight of all six-year-olds. Homework? Indoor class? No snack time? These things simply will not stand. It’s the land of opportunities, MJ says, voice full of passion. Less homework, no, no homework! Classes outdoors during nice days, they deserve it. Snack time, like recess, should be a requirement! Tony cheers MJ along.

“Only 28 years until she runs for president,” Tony chuckles, nudging Steve in the side. “Do you think her platform will still stand on naps and snack time? Because if so she has my vote.”

They’re nearly three hours in when Steve sees the kids sagging. They’re ricocheting off the walls instead of actively bouncing. No longer full of the same energy. That is until they walk into the last room of the day.

The bug room is just that. An exhibit dedicated solely to insects. Steve watches as Peter’s eyes take in the room. Growing wider with every display.

“Wh—“ Tony’s interrupted by Peter’s squeal.

“Arthropods!”

As always, the adults are surprised to hear Pete’s voice. He only speaks rarely, in situations he’s comfortable in. Peter’s spoken more today than Steve thinks he’s heard the boy speak in the time they’ve known each other.

Tony opens his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue, before they’re off. Peter drags MJ and Ned behind him. He stops at every glass case, explaining in detail what he knows about the insect inside. He continues using the mixture of sign and speech when talking to his friends.

“Well,” Tony sighs, checking his watch before turning to Steve. “It appears we are no longer needed. Peter has this under control. Want to run down and grab a coffee real quick?”

* * *

The coffee is overpriced but good. Steve holds his cup firmly in his hands, breathing in the aroma as deeply as possible. The smell grounds him, the warmth that radiates from the cup, through his fingers, up his arms and intro the rest of his body is so welcome. November in New York is a chilly time, Steve can never quite keep the chill from soaking into his bones.

“Thank you.” Tony’s voice jerks Steve out of his reverie. “For coming. I know… I know you didn’t have to. But you answered the phone when I called last night. It was late!” Tony laughs, he sounds disbelieving. Like he doesn’t know that Steve would do anything to hear that laugh, to see that smile. “I call you at almost midnight after avoiding your texts and calls for two days and you answer! Then you tell me how to settle Peter and Co so I can finally sleep. You’re… well you’re something else Steve Rogers.”

They’re back on the elevator now, Steve’s fingers are still wrapped around his coffee, but he doesn’t feel as grounded in the warmth and smell.

“I, uh—I’m sorry, about earlier… when I called this a date. I should have asked your permission for that. Or at least discussed it with you. I know… I know I wouldn’t want to go on a date with me after two days with no contact. So, don’t feel obliged, it doesn’t have too… i—it’s not a date if you do—“

“This has been a nice first date Tony,” Steve interrupts, smile on his face.

When Steve looks up from his coffee, unable to watch the steam rise any longer he notices how close he and Tony are. Saying there’s an inch between them is generous in the moment. Tony’s standing barely a hair away from Steve, dark eyes staring up at him through long, elegant lashes. Steve’s struck by how Tony’s eyes aren’t brown, not in the traditional sense. They’re amber, the stunning color of whiskey as it’s poured into a crystal glass. The shorter man’s lips part, elegant and pink. Raw in one spot from where he worries it between his teeth.

Steve wonders why Tony never mentioned that his eyes have flecks of gold like Peters.

Then he leans in, closing the distance, and kisses the man again.

This kiss, Steve thinks, is nothing like the first. This kiss starts slow, there’s no clumsy, harried clash of teeth as they fall into each other. This kiss is Steve leaning down, stormy, ocean blue eyes staring into Tony’s amber ones. This time Steve doesn’t wrap his arms around Tony in an attempt to help right the man, to keep them on their feet. This time Steve’s free hand moves to Tony’s waist, pulling the man as close to flush as he can get. Tony wraps his free hand around Steve’s neck, fingers curling in the blonde hair at the nape.

Steve’s senses are so filled with Tony. Everything from the way the man smells. Sweet and earthy like coconut oil but also mechanical, like motor oil. To how he feels, lips soft beneath his, moving in tandem. Body firm, lean muscle flexing and shifting. Driving Steve wild with a need to see how his body shifts without clothing on. He wants to kiss every inch, he wants to draw every inch. He’s so aware of how Tony sounds, the soft whine he lets out when Steve finally leans in. The sigh that comes only a few moments later when Steve squeezes his hip. Steve might never drink coffee again, because it will never taste as sweet as it does when he’s tasting it on Tony’s lips.

All too soon the elevator dings and the doors open to the third floor. They pull apart, Tony’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated so much Steve can hardly see the starling amber color. His lips are parted and swollen, pink and begging to be kissed again. Steve doesn’t realize he’s staring, still leaned into Tony’s space until the shorter man clears his throat.

“We should, uh, probably. I think,” Tony stops for a moment, closing his eyes. He slides his free hand from where his fingers are still curled in Steve’s hair. “We should get back out there, yeah?” Tony’s words come out quickly, melting together into one as he rubs a temple.

“What the fuck do you do to me, Rogers,” Tony whispers under his breath, following Steve out of the elevator. Steve thinks this is a rhetorical question, so he refrains from answering.

But he takes delight in knowing that he can make Tony breathless, can make his brain work at slightly less than genius speeds, even if only for a moment.

* * *

It’s nearly nine when they finally stumble into the penthouse of the Tower. The kids passed out in the car after stuffing themselves full of pasta and breadsticks at a small Italian restaurant Tony loves. Tony’s carrying MJ on his hip, Steve has Ned on his back and Peter in his arms. It feels domestic, following Tony through the home.

“Hey, MJ,” Tony cajoles, setting the girls feet on the floor but not letting go of her weight. “You gotta get ready for bed, kid. You need jammies on and to brush your teeth.”

Tony holds on a moment longer, waiting while the girl rubs her eyes and sways.

“W’you braid m’hair?” She asks, finally opening her eyes enough to look at Tony.

“Yeah, sugar. I will. But first, you, bathroom, jammies, clean teeth.”

Tony places a set of pajamas in MJ’s arms before pushing her toward Peter’s private bathroom. He grabs some pajamas for Peter and Ned before motioning to Steve to follow him.

“The boys can get ready in my bathroom.”

With grace and expertise Tony guides Peter and Ned into the land of the waking. He gives them the same instructions he gave MJ before instructing Steve to make sure the boys finish getting ready.

Seven minutes later Steve has Ned and Peter settled into their sleeping bags on the floor. It appears MJ is crashing on the bed. He ambles into the living room where Tony and MJ are sitting on the couch. There’s soft music playing overhead as Tony gently runs a brush through the young girl’s hair.

“Did you have fun today?” Tony asks, parting MJ’s hair down the middle. “I know I did.”

MJ nods, leaning into Tony’s fingers as he braids her hair. He makes quick work of two braids before standing her up.

“Alright Underoos the remix,” he grunts, picking MJ up when she sways threateningly. “Let’s get you into bed.”

“Stay,” he commands, leaving Steve standing awkwardly in the living room.

Steve thinks for a moment that where he stands now is so close to where they shared their first kiss. A few feet to his left the glass wall shows the New York skyline, picturesque as lights from the skyscrapers twinkle like stars. It’s breathtaking. Steve’s fingers twitch with the desire to put the scene on paper. He wants to sketch the way the view makes him feel. He wants to draw Tony with the cityscape at his back.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Tony’s voice startles Steve causing the man to turn quickly, hand moving to a gun he no longer carries.

_Two exits. Window in dire situations, elevator is preferred. Time to the elevator is 10 seconds. Time to the bike from the elevator is 156 seconds. I’m safe, I’m okay._

“Are you okay?” Tony asks, voice laced with clear concern, noticing the emotions crossing Steve’s face, the tension in his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Steve grunts. He takes a moment to steel himself, clearing his throat before continuing. “Yeah, I just—I uh, never told you that I served in the army, did I? Not really a topic I want to discuss with a fella I’m interested in.” Steve chuckles darkly. Aggressively he runs a palm down his face, sighing.

“Hey,” Tony’s voice is gentle, musical in how soft it is. “You can talk to me about anything, honeybunches. I’m here for you. We are… friends, yeah?”

A warm hand is placed to Steve’s bicep and he’s cold, so, so cold. He tries not to, but he leans into the contact fully, craving the warmth of another person. Craving the warmth of Tony who seems to hold the power of the stars in his soul.

“Hey, Jay, ugh, Steve is pretty cold,” Tony’s amber eyes are still on Steve, the man can feel them burning into him.

“Scans show Mr. Roger’s temperature has rapidly dropped two degrees in the last 97 seconds. His heart rate is increased, though his respirations are normal I think it would be best if you sat down. I’ll adjust the heat.”

“Thanks Jay,” Tony mutters, moving his hand, Steve bites back his whine of discontent, he wants Tony’s warmth back. “Steve, baby, we need to go sit down, okay? I need you to walk with me, you can keep your eyes closed if you want but you need to walk to with me, babe. Can I touch you?”

Steve nods keeping his eyes shut tight, even as Tony places a hand on the small of Steve’s back to guide him. Steve usually manages his anxiety attacks okay. He can talk himself through them. Even after the nightmares he doesn’t have trouble calming down. Tony surprising him shouldn’t trigger an attack this bad. Steve’s thoughts continue the destructive path. Each one feeding into the cycle, he should be able to handle this, he knows where the exits are, he knows how best to protect himself and the people closest. He could easily overtake Tony if he was on the wrong side of things. But he feels his heart continue to race and he just grows colder and colder.

“Hey, baby, shh.” Tony lowers Steve onto the couch.

It’s then that Steve realizes he’s been babbling, chastising himself out loud. Giving the thoughts a voice they don’t deserve.

“Jay, make sure the kids stay asleep. Watch the temperature and if you could, play one of those ASMR videos you used to play to help me sleep.”

“Yes, Sir,” JARVIS sounds just as concerned as Tony.

“I’m going to put a blanket around your shoulders, okay?” Tony’s voice is soft, soothing. Steve wants to calm down, follow the voice back to where he feels okay. “I need you to nod or tell me it’s okay, baby,”

“Yes,” Steve rumbles. His voice scratchy and just barely above a whisper. “Please,” he adds. Not sure what he’s begging for.

The blanket is soft, secure as it’s thrown over his arms and tucked under his chin.

Steve isn’t sure when he started shivering.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tony asks, Steve can feel the man’s hands and fingers hovering, moving around to check for any physical damage.

“Not now.” Steve forces the words out. “Please.”

“Okay, okay Stevie-kins. Is it okay if I touch you again?”

Steve nods, prompting Tony to pull the man over. He adjusts so he’s sitting sideways on the couch, legs crossed under Steve’s head. Skittishly Tony runs slim fingers through Steve’s hair, massaging lightly at his scalp as he does.

“I—is this okay, Steve?” Tony whispers. “This is what I do for Peter when he wakes up from a nightmare. It helps him.”

Steve nods, rolling onto his side, tucking his face into the fold of Tony’s knee. He breathes in deeply, getting a strange feeling of inebriation from the way Tony smells.

“It’s what Rhodey and Pepper did for me…” Tony trails off, wrapping a golden lock around his finger before running his hand back through the man’s hair. “After Afghanistan. I had trouble sleeping. I had… I had nightmares and I would wake up in cold sweats. It had just started getting better when everything with Obie, uh, I mean, Obadiah happened. Rhodey stayed with me for two months after they found me. Pepper moved in until I felt confident I could handle the attacks. But there were so many nights… oh Steve, there were so many nights while Rhodey was here, while Pepper was here, where I would wake up screaming. I would clutch the arc reactor and gasp for breath. Pep would talk to me, sometimes she would sing. It doesn’t seem like it, but the woman has quite the voice. I’m lucky SI grabbed her and not Broadway. Rhodey would hold me, just, wrap me up and rock me back and forth. But that’s not new, he would sometimes do something like that after a bad meeting with Howard. What I’m saying, Steve, is that sometimes it gets the best of all of us. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But you also don’t have to go through it alone. If I can help at all, let me know how, please.” Tony’s voice is tight, he’s still running his fingers through Steve’s hair. With his spare hand, he doodles swirling designs on the exposed portions of Steve’s back.

“This is good, this is… great,” Steve whispers. “Talk to me, about anything.”

“Alright Stevie-kins,” Tony chuckles. Steve loves Tony’s laugh and he feels his heart slow at the sound. “You asked for it. Let me tell you about the first coding update for JARVIS and how he avoided it like a child avoids bath time.”

“Sir,”

“No interrupting daddy, Jay. I’m talking to Steve.” Tony sounds annoyed but Steve can hear the smile in his voice.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this but I’m bad with dates. I can remember numbers okay, though so I can tell you it had been something like four hundred and sixty days since JARVIS was born. Well, I needed to update him. Even though he’s an A.I. he needs checkups and like… vaccinations I guess. So, I write this beautiful code, I start at the bottom again, because Jay deserves nothing but the best. But when I go to upload it I find I’m locked out…”

Steve is sure that Tony’s story is interesting. He even finds he wants to hear about the antics the man gets into while trying to update the A.I., but he’s tired. He’s tired and the feeling of Tony’s fingers running through his hair, stopping only long enough to massage gently at his scalp relaxes him. Before he knows it, Steve’s breathing is slowing and he’s falling asleep in Tony’s lap.

* * *

Steve wakes slowly, bathed in warmth and a smell he associates deeply with happiness. This is nice he thinks, before realizing the source of warmth is another body. Cautiously he opens his eyes. Tony.

The events of the night before come rushing back to Steve as soon as he sets his eyes on Tony. He remembers the amazing day at the Staten Island Children’s Museum, dinner at the small Italian restaurant with employees who know Tony by heart. Coming home to settle the kiddos into bed. Then the anxiety attack, Tony’s soothing voice and fingers threading through his hair. Falling asleep to the sound of Tony’s soft words and hushed laughter.

It seems Tony fell asleep too, and over the course of the night they moved and shifted until Steve’s back is flush with the back of the sofa, Tony pulled to his chest, face tucked into Steve’s neck.

He looks peaceful. In a much different way than he does when interacting with Peter. Even then Tony carries the worried of his company and being a father, being better than his father, on his shoulders. None of that shows now. Steve watches as Tony’s eyes flutter and shift under closed lids, long lashes fanning over the man’s gorgeous carnelian skin. Rich in color like the stone, but so much more precious.

“Please stop staring, I’m already embarrassed enough, sugarbuns.” Tony’s voice is rough, groggy with sleep as he shifts.

Contrary to what he says he doesn’t pull away, instead he snuggles in deeper, throwing an arm over Steve’s waist.

“Jarvis,” Steve says, unable to keep himself from glancing up to the ceiling.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers?”

“How are the kids?”

“They all appear to still be in deep sleep. Though we are nearing ten hours since they went to bed. They might wake any minute.”

“Scan, Jay,” Tony mumbles into Steve’s neck, breath ghosting across his skin, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on edge. “Gimme an estimate on how much longer they’ll be asleep.”

“Sir,” the returning voice is dry, almost deadpan. “The children are still in deep sleep, like I told Mr. Rogers. Best estimates show they will likely be up within two hours.”

“Thanks, Jay. Do we need anything for Sundae Sunday?”

“I wrote a list last week and had everything delivered, ensuring you will have enough Sundae Sunday materials for at least ten people, sir. You should be covered.”

“Thanks Jay, what would I do without you?”

“It seems certain you would hardly make it a week, sir,” The fondly exasperated tone of the A.I. isn’t lost on Steve.

Tony laughs, snuggling into Steve.

“Want some coffee before the hooligans get up?” Tony’s voice isn’t as gruff as it was moments ago.

“Fuck, yes,” Steve groans, the thought of caffeine sending shivers down his spine as he and Tony untangle themselves.

“Alright, honeydew,” Tony laughs, leading Steve to the kitchen. “Let’s have some coffee.”

Tony putters around the kitchen. Soon the smell of coffee is wafting through the air and Steve is snagging bits and pieces of fruit from a bowl Tony places on the island.

“Do you want to talk about last night?” Tony’s voice is casual, no pressure for Steve to reveal his secrets, no annoyance at Steve for the cracks in his armor.

It feels like Tony just cares, wants to know but doesn’t feel he’s entitled to the information.

“Uh, the quick version is I was in the military for six years. At 24 I got recruited for a special division of homeland security that I can’t tell you about. As an agent, there I did mission for four and a half years. Until I retired last year, after… after a really, really bad set of missions. We accomplished our objective but,” Steve sighs, heart heavy in his chest. Thankfully, he takes the cup of coffee Tony pushes into his hands. “We finished the objective, but I was emotionally compromised. So many things happened. I wasn’t sure if I believed in what I was doing…” Steve trails off, unsure of where he was going with that. The thought leaves as quickly as it occurs.

Tony’s hand on his wrist grounds him, bringing Steve back to the moment.

“Thank you for telling me Steve. That sounds… sounds like quite the list of experiences. I’m sorry you can’t share more of it with those around you. If you ever want to talk, I’m here. Even if you can only speak in generalities.” Tony smiles.

Steve smiles back, an honest smile. He thinks it might be the first time he’s smiled this brightly outside of the classroom.

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupts. “It appears the Young Sir and his friends are waking.”

At the same time Peter, Ned and MJ come barreling around the corner. A mess of pajamas and bedhead. At the sight of Steve, they all stop.

“Mr. Rogers is still here?” Ned asks, incredulous. “Why?”

“None of our business, Ned,” MJ sighs. Steve swears the girl is only seven but already an annoyed teenager.

“Mr. Rogers?” Peter adds, comfortable enough to use words, speaking but also signing as he does. _Why are you still here?_ He adds, this is completely in sign.

“Fell asleep on the couch, kiddo.” Steve smiles, gesturing to himself. Showing the kids he’s wearing the outfit from yesterday.

“Besides,” Steve adds, voice light and teasing. “Do I look like somebody who would skip Sundae Sunday?”

Tony huffs, a dry laugh as he places bowls in front of everybody.

“Okay, Sundae Sunday rules. You make the biggest, craziest sundae you can think of. I have so much ice cream I’ll cry if we don’t use most of it. After that, we stay in our pajamas and watch… something. What do you feel like watching?”

_Batman,_ Peter signs. Tony rolls his eyes, sighing.

“Peter, we’ve been over this. Batman is the worst superhero. Billionaire? I like it. Dresses like a bat? Weird but who am I to judge? Doesn’t reveal his secret identity? I guess if you have to ‘protect those around you’ But the man doesn’t even build his own weapons or tech. He outsources! Also, too much black. The Bat could use some red.”

**“** Dad,” Peter laughs. “We all know you like Batman.”

“False, next suggestion please.”

“Firefly?” Ned suggests. He’s already building a huge sundae, base made of three different ice creams and sliced bananas.

“Petey and I finished Firefly for the second-time last weekend, sorry kid.” Tony vetoes Ned’s choice.

“Buffy?” MJ offers, her sundae is growing. Two scoops of vanilla with a huge scoop of butter pecan in the middle. She’s topping hers with fudge, caramel, and peanuts it looks like.

“You’re bringing Buffy to the table but apparently ‘Who Killed Mr. Stark’ was pretty violent?” Tony’s voice is disbelieving.

MJ only nods, an austere look on her face as she spirals a huge serving of whipped topping onto her sundae.

“Yeah actually, I like that option. Is everybody okay with Buffy?” Three small heads nod in Tony’s direction, they’re focused on building huge sundaes. “Jay— “  
“Season one of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is all queued up, sir.”

“You’re the best,” Tony sighs, contentedly watching Peter top off his two scoops of vanilla, one scoop of chocolate with mixed berries, chocolate sauce and whipped topping.

“As you’ve said, sir.”

“Don’t forget to build your sundae, Rogers.” Tony warns, shoving a bowl into Steve’s hands. “It’s a requirement. Sundae Sunday cannot start until all members have a sundae in hand.”

“Alright, Tony,” Steve sighs, the smile on his face betrays him as he scoops several different ice creams into his bowl. If Tony wants Steve to build a monster of a sundae then he will do exactly that.

When Tony playfully smears whipped topping on the noses of the three children Steve thinks this might be the happiest he’s been since ma took him and Bucky on that vacation to Boston.

* * *

Three hours later, as a new episode of Buffy starts and Ned’s soft snores are drowned out by the theme song. Steve is sure this is the happiest he’s been, ever.


End file.
